


Cause It's The Only Thing We Know

by subtropicalStenella



Series: 5 for 500 [9]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Huddling For Warmth, M/M, Platonic Cuddling, just guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 06:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12163323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtropicalStenella/pseuds/subtropicalStenella
Summary: 5 for 500 Prompt for Prophetic Fire: Cuddling For Warmth





	Cause It's The Only Thing We Know

“ _ Fuck  _ it's cold,” one pilot whines, shoving his hands deeper into his armpits. “No offense, Cap’n, but you don't have  _ any  _ heating units?”

He shakes his head, pulling his helmet off as he leads them deeper into the base. “The whole base is an ice cave, dumbass. Heating system will bring the whole place down on our heads.” 

“They got 'em in Hoth!” the other grumbles, and rubs his hands briskly over his upper arms

“They also got decent funding on Hoth,” his Lieutenant says around the red sucker in his mouth, and flips a playing card onto the table before dashing off a lazy, half salute. “18-3305, Sweets.”

 

The others in Red squad sound off around the common room, Scraps, Kickback, Hotwire and Kee the only ones not opting to catch extra time in their racks where it was warmer. Kickback doesn't even look up from his project: a thin, hooked bit of metal and pale grey-white mottled tauntaun wool  wrapped around his hands, halfway through becoming a sock.

 

“Too much money to install a system, portable shit would just melt the walls, and we've all got enviro built into our kits,” he explains, stuffing his helmet into the rows of carved shelving and sitting down next to Sweets to let Hotwire deal him in. “So we just make do.” 

“I’m Mids, that's Gunner, and all due respect sir but we don't  _ get  _ your kinda kits.”

“Yeah my dick's trying to shrivel up and hide in my guts before it falls off, so you got any ideas how to keep that from happening until this storm blows over and we can get our birds back up in the air? Cos, like, I need it.” 

“Yeah he can't lose his dick on a supply run. Shit’s embarrassing.”

 

Gunner nods firmly and Kee snickers, leaning over sideways to rummage in a supply crate. He comes up with two thick sweaters and heaves them at the pilots. “Put those on inside your flightsuits.” 

 

“ _ Sick!  _ How did you get these?” Mids asks, peeling out of the top half of his flightsuit immediately, shaking melting snow out of his hair and pulling it on over his blacks.

“Kickback and a couple of the others make 'em. Got shit-all else to do out here, the mines are almost entirely automated and transport of material is so far underground that any assault would take weeks to get anything done,” Hotwire says, and rakes in his winnings.

“And we've rigged it all to blow anyway,” Scraps adds, shuffling the cards. “Can stop just about anything we want without leaving base camp.”

“Where'd you get the string?”

“ _ Yarn _ ,” Kickback corrects quietly, and starts to turn the heel on his sock.

“We help out with some of the heavy lifting around the local farms. Kickback got pretty friendly with one of the farmboys, family started up a trade cos they didn't like us doing the work for free,” he says, and draws a couple cards.

 

Sweets snorts skeptically and picks up his hand. “Bit  _ too  _ friendly.”

 

“Jealousy ain't pretty on anyone, LT,” Kickback replies, smiling faintly at his yarn.

“Hey good for you, man,” Gunner starts, and is interrupted by Mids yawning. “Shit, you alright?”

“Cold wipes you out if you aren't used to it,” Kee says, and jerks his head towards the barracks. “May as well sleep off the storm. Should be another couple hours.”

“Hell yes, free naps!” Mids crows, grinning and hauling his wingman towards the barracks by the belt.

 

\--

 

If it seems slightly warmer in the barracks, it's only due to the radiant heat of the five or six squads bundled up in threes and fours and one big pile of something like seven guys on some relocated mattresses between the bunks, all of them wrapped up in GAR Issue bedding and a bunch of loose blankets that look kinda like the sweaters they're wearing, but with fancy colors and patterns and shit. 

 

They grab a couple more woven blankets off the big stack in the corner and strip down to blacks and sweaters before heading for one of the empty bunks. Gunner dives in ahead of Mids to curl up on his side, holding his arms out.

 

“Man why do I always gotta be the little spoon?” Mids whines, blankets still rolled up under his arm. 

“Cos you got a cushy butt, bro. Now get in here.”

“I let you rub one off on me  _ once  _ and now you're spoiled,” Mids grumbles, but crawls in anyway, shaking the blankets over them both. 

“You say that like you didn't start it and then got off, too,” Gunner argues smugly, and pulls Mids closer to shove his hands under the top of his blacks.

“ _ Fuck  _ your hands’re cold--” Mids yelps, squirming.

“Well yeah, you gotta warm 'em up.” 

“Not cool.  _ So  _ not cool.”

“Nah man  _ cool  _ is exactly my problem--”

 

A tousled, curly head pops over the edge of the the top bunk, glaring blearily at them. He's got a green streak in the front of his hair. 

 

“Oh hey bro! Sweet dye job!” Gunner chirps, pinning Mids down to keep his involuntary handwarmer. 

“Thanks,” the new guy grumbles perfunctorily. “You assholes actually trying to get warm or is this foreplay?” 

“Nah man we’re fuckin freezing,” Mids says, half muffled in the mattress. 

 

New Guy nods, upside down, and hooks a thumb up towards his bunk. “C’mon up then. Watch rotates in an hour or so, if you don't mind the squeeze until then you'll get a warm rack to yourselves after.”

 

“ _ Sweet!” _

 

New Guy lets them haul themselves up over the rail, clambering into the pile, and names off the  bunkmates, Fixer closest to the wall, Jack in the middle and himself, Trey. 

Fixer grumbles a bit as he's forced closer to the durasteel wall and the ice behind it, but Jack doesn't even wake up as he slings an arm over both pilots and Trey flops down over the top of them, head pillowed on his arms and Jack’s side.

 

“You guys are seriously awesome,” Mids mumbles, tucking his arms into Trey’s bare stomach while Gunner tucks himself in behind him again, forehead against the back of his neck.

“Just cut the chatter already, flyboy.”


End file.
